


With Apologies to the Room

by MissGillette



Series: Xavierine Rare Pair Hell [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Anal Sex, Author Erik, Coming Untouched, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Not quite telepathy sex but damn near, PWP, Rimming, Shibari, meta as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7935154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGillette/pseuds/MissGillette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever Erik comes to the cafe to write smut, he always apologizes to any telepaths potentially in the room. Charles ignores that warning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Apologies to the Room

**Author's Note:**

> So, announcing my nasty thoughts to telepaths is actually a thing I do. Especially if I'm in a new place that I'll be frequenting. I'll believe in magic until I die, so don't roll your eyes at me. Nobody asked for your sass. Read the porn!

_ Sorry to any telepaths in the room. _

Charles glances up from his novel, ear catching on a familiar voice. It’s the handsome fellow in the turtleneck, the one he’s spoken to a few times while trying to not make a fool of himself. Charles had enough brain cells not focused on his to die for body to remember the man’s name: Erik. Spying over the yellowed pages of his paperback, Charles follows Erik’s entrance into the room, laptop bag on his shoulder. There’s a faint blush on his face, not entirely unattractive, and an urgency in his search for a table near an outlet. Erik hovers for moment, watching two girls sweep their bags from the table and standing. They give him nervous smiles, lurking so closely to them, and he fires one back. Charles bites back a chuckle at how fast the two ladies scamper away. Once Erik seats himself in the little corner table, he drops out of sight from Charles’ table, but not out of mind.

_ Hmm, not here today. Probably for the better. I’d never get anything done if he were here. _

Sitting up a bit straighter, Charles cranes his head to try and make eye contact with Erik. It’s a no go, though, with a half wall blocking the view. Charles pouts, but turns his eyes back to his novel. Erik’s mind quickly wanders away from the thought about Charles and focuses, razor’s edge sharp, on the task at hand. He thinks much quieter than your average Joe, but he’s excited about something and loses a bit of control. Charles’ eyes flick up out of instinct to where he knows Erik’s sitting. He’s working on some kind of writing project, Charles knows that from previous conversations, but the details elude him.

Erik’s honed mind offers a clue, setting a stage in his head while Charles watches. Erik’s inner voice reads back words on a page--a story, Charles realizes, a work of fiction--and the set assembles accordingly. A well-dressed room materializes in neutral colors. Ceiling to floor windows allow light to pour in and fill the cracks like syrup in a jar. The mental wood beneath Charles’ feet is dark, while everything else in the room is white or grey. The bed, once it phases in, is close to the floor and swimming in a fluffy comforter. Charles smiles at the scene, enjoying it, until the people appear. Then, he has to duck his head into his novel to cover up the high squawk that comes out of his mouth.

**He’s** on that bed. And he’s not really  _ on _ the bed so much as he’s  _ tied _ to the bed, with more ropes braided and twisted around his body. Charles’ eyes cross on the page he’s staring at. He’s familiar with the artful and beautiful way ropes are woven around him--somehow, the word  _ shibari _ floats into his head--but he’s never actually seen it, beyond pornography. It wouldn’t be so bad, if it weren’t for the fact that his legs are drawn apart and splayed in the air, revealing all. Charles whimpers into the spine of his book and sinks farther down into his chair. He can barely keep focus on the imaginary him in Erik’s head. It’s probably why it takes him so long to notice the subtle differences between reality and fantasy.

The him trussed up like a Christmas present is younger than he actually is, with a fuller face and wider eyes. Are his eyes really that blue? Charles doubts it. His freckles are more pronounced, especially with the blood-red flush darkening his face. Parts of his torso, nearer to his navel, pillow out between the ropes, as well. Charles pinches his real waist and pouts, deciding that he is a bit chunkier than he’d thought, but not like Erik imagines. It’s not unflattering, it just injures his pride. Luckily, things below the belt are actually better endowed than reality, and some of Charles’ pride fluffs up at that. Erik thinks him bigger than he actually is, why not let him? He’s not quite that hairless downunder, but a man can dream.

Charles’s gaze travels back up to his rounder face, to see those familiar eyes shine back at him in a haze of lust, half-lidded. Another body is materializing in the room. Charles expects--prays, even--that it’s Erik. While the young lad on the bed might not exactly be him, Charles is clearly the inspiration for him. However, the more of the other body that fills in, the more Charles realizes that this is not a fantasy featuring them. The other body, a man, is short like himself, but stocky. Arms bulging with muscles and covered in hair appear first, then his torso and legs, following the theme of fit and hairy. The man’s face appears at last, although Charles doesn’t recognize him. The man’s wild hair fits the rest of him, adding to his brutish appearance. Charles isn’t a fan of the mutton chops, but they still somehow suit the man.

His casual appreciation of the second body--Charles lifts a name from Erik,  _ Logan _ \--lurches to a screeching halt with Erik ever so helpfully fills in the other bits of him. Charles’ real eyes nearly bug out of his head. If Erik had been a tad generous imaging his equipment, he’s really given this Logan character the biggest cock Charles has ever seen. And that includes all the porn, where size matters. It would be frightening soft, but erect it’s the thing of nightmares. Or the stuff of wildest dreams come true, if his imaginary eyes are anything to go by. Logan has a hand on himself, stroking for no other purpose than to touch and drive the point home that Charles cannot. It’s torture, and Logan’s toothy grin shows that it’s working. Charles doesn’t even need to hear his own whimpering--not quite that pathetic--to know.

The scene freezes at that moment. Charles almost bangs his fist on the table in anger. He has to deal with terrible lag while streaming anything on the internet, there can’t possibly be mental buffering! Flustered, Charles rocks in his seat to try and see Erik again, to see what’s the hold up. Erik stands from his seat, still sporting a heavy blush, and picks his way through tables to stand in line to order something. Charles scoffs and hunkers down behind his book, muttering his impatience. It’s better to slip down his chair anyway, lest Erik see him or anyone else see the tent in his jeans. Charles shifts in his seat for good measure, widening the spread of his feet under the table.

Erik returns shortly with something too hot to drink yet. Charles slips back into his thoughts, watching him set the drink down out of reach of his laptop. He dives back into the story where he’d left off, Logan standing at the foot of the bed, enjoying the view. Charles’ eyes lose focus on the book as he joins back in. The image stutters for a moment, choppy, before it resumes. On the bed, his image tests the hold the ropes have on his wrists and ankles. Everything pauses again, rewinds a step, and then picks up. Erik has added something to the scene: a bar now pins Charles’ legs open while ropes under his knees help them stay airborne. Charles judges the scene more elaborate, but still pleasing to the eye.

The action moves on, too, starting with Logan. His hand drops away from his cock as he steps towards Charles’ folded, restrained body. With large, square palms, Logan pets the skin of Charles’ inner thighs that pokes out between the ropes. He can hardly join in the fun, tied down and unable to buck into the caress. Charles walks around them, getting an eye full of Logan’s shapely ass and his own, straining erection. Charles stares at the table, threatening to overheat, when Erik’s imagination focuses on blue ribbon tied around his shaft. It occurs to Charles at that moment that Erik has written him with a cut dick, when the exact opposite is true. It’s a distant thought, whispered by the part of him that somehow still has cognizance. The rest of his him is focused to a fault on the two bodies in the fantasy.

Logan kneels down on the floor--Erik angrily shifts Charles down the bed, so that the positions make sense--and squeezes Charles’ hips in his hands. His image whimpers in response, begging with a breathless, “Please.”

Logan chuckles, his breath ghosting across Charles’ pale backside. His hands slide down, down to cup his cheeks. Logan’s thumbs stroke across the curve of each cheek, teasing and light. Charles bucks with the modicum of leeway he has. With his head thrown back on a pillow, Charles moans to the ceiling and begs again. Focus narrows down to his throat bobbing for air, to his chest thrust up and writhing. He’s making a mess of the blue ribbon tied around his cock, but no one present seems the mind. Logan hums and finally takes pity on him, holding his cheeks open and diving down with his tongue ready to lick.

“Christ!” Charles jumps in his seat, knocking his knees into the underside. He’d practically felt that for real, and he’s never had the pleasure. Pressing the heel of one hand into his crotch and the other against his mouth, Charles released a stuttering breath and whispers this time, “Good lord, Erik, you’ll be the death of my dignity if you make me come in this damn cafe.”

Charles touches the edge of the scene gently, but it sucks him right back in. The noise, oh the noises he’s making! Charles’ blush, on both faces, spreads to his ears and down his neck. He’s a shaking, jerky mess with Logan taking him apart, one lick at a time. Logan groans happily between his legs. The man’s tongue flicks across skin and traces widening and then shrinking circles over Charles’ hole. Logan adjusts his hands to leave his thumbs digging into plump cheeks. The trimmed scruff along Logan’s jaw scratches Charles’ skin, making it glow red where Logan rubs against him. Charles writhes through every forceful touch with his mouth open and cries leaking out.

Sucking in a deep breath to calm himself, Charles makes a note to see just how loud he really is in bed. He wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘wanton’ to describe the noises he’s making in Erik’s head, but perhaps a distant cousin, twice removed, of ‘wanton.’ He glances around the cafe to see if anyone is watching him fall apart. Thankfully, everyone seems to be keeping to themselves, going about their watery lattes and overpriced muffin ways. Charles presses his teeth to the inside of his cheek, just to feel something other than this electric tingling running up and down his body.

By trying to hold back an embarrassingly public orgasm, Charles had managed to tune Erik out. He tunes back in with Logan stuffing four, thick fingers into him. His hole is sloppy and shining with lube, gliding open with every thrust. Charles has never seen this angle of himself, always too busy with the actual event happening  _ inside _ him. But Erik paints the scene with gentle colors. Logan is tender with him, never forcing his fingers in with any malice. He often retreats to rubbing Charles’ opening, showing off how red and loose he is.

Logan’s other hand is wrapped around the pole keeping Charles’ leg apart. He hoists it up, lifting Charles higher and folding him in half. He whimpers something, a plea maybe for Logan to untie that part. Charles doesn’t listen to the dialogue after the first filthy words that growl from Logan’s throat. He might actually come from that tone. The him on the bed shudders and rocks back on Logan’s fingers as best he can. Logan’s mouth twists in a smirk, and he huffs out a laugh.

Those impossibly thick fingers leave him with a slipper noise. Charles moans at the loss, but his noise turns happy when Logan picks at the knots holding the bar in place. He dispatches them quickly for someone without long nails. Charles’ pale legs come crashing back to the mattress with a bounce. Logan gathers him close, taking a moment to sweep Charles’ hair out of his eyes, before rutting between his legs. Charles shudders in his chair as he watches Logan’s cock fuck up between his cheeks, behind his balls. His phantom whines and thrusts his hips up to meet Logan’s thrusts. He also strains against the ropes at his wrists, clawing at the air. Logan grunts something and digs a hand between them.

Charles’ brain helpfully supplies the sensation, the heat and drag of a cockhead rubbing at his hole. He jumps in the chair again with all his muscles seizing tight. The hand pressing down on his cock grinds the hard line of his zipper through his underwear and into his flesh. It would hurt, if Charles could feel anything other than the memory of a cock inside him. Erik shows him, manages to write it in detail enough for him to shake and twist on the chair. In his head, Charles can replace Logan with Erik, even though Logan is a rather handsome brute. But perhaps Erik’s arms are just as strong at Logan’s and could hold him together with the same power. 

He tunes into them again in the midst of the action. Flesh strikes flesh in a bright clap of noise, accompanied with the squelch of lube from Charles’ ass. Logan’s thrust would scoot him up the bed, if it weren’t for the crushing hold he has of Charles’ hips. Still, every soft part of Charles peeking through the ropes shakes with Logan’s passion. The bed rolls in a wave under them, rocking Charles even harder onto Logan’s dick. He’s choking out awful things, filth Charles would be too shy to actually say. The words spill out along with cries of Logan’s name. Logan hasn’t even touched his erection when he comes. His orgasm splashes on the ropes crossing his chest, shining for a moment before dulling.

Charles ruthlessly bites the meaty part of his thumb as the unthinkable happens. Warmth blooms in his underwear, moist and sticky. His hips jerk under the table as if he could fuck into something rather than spill in his pants. Charles’ vision hazes and clouds over while he rides the pulse of his orgasm. He’s never been happier to be a silent comer. A man walking by shoots him a brief look, but he passes Charles without a word. Sweat cling to Charles’ forehead and traps some of his hair to the skin. It dampens the collar of his t-shirt, where thankfully the black cloth has only turned more black.

Sucking in a breath, Charles wedges his back against the chair and sighs to the ceiling. His face burns with the shame that he’d actually come in public, untouched, and even unnoticed. Through the perfect o of his lips, Charles sucks in air and releases it again. Cool air will help calm him and realign his body with the Earth’s gravity. His toes still tingle in his shoes, where they’d curled so hard it’d hurt. Charles kicks his feet out to the other side of the table. He’d slide down and out of the chair--boneless as he is post-orgasm--but he doubts his ability to remain unnoticed. A brief caress of Erik’s mind shows him nothing of note, the image he’d constructed on pause and tucked away.

Charles bites his lip and hums against it. He would have liked to see the end, to see Logan take him in arms and kiss him. He’d like to watch Logan unravel the ropes and massage feeling back into sore areas. The post-coitus, Charles reasons, is just as important as the coitus itself. He’d want Erik to do those things for him. It might even be a deal breaker, the longer Charles thinks about it. Erik barely knows he exists, though, and has simply used his looks as inspiration for his story. Charles thinks this without an ounce of bitterness. All right, maybe a bit. That thought turns to dust in the wind when a throat clears. His eyes slam open.

“Charles? When did you get here? I didn’t see you walk in…”

Sputtering, Charles scrapes his chair hard on the floor. Erik stands towering above him. Their respective positions and height differences put Erik’s crotch at face level with him. These differences also put the slight bulge of Erik’s crotch at face level. Charles stares at the bulge for a time longer than is polite. And judging by the rise of Erik’s blush from his face to his ears, he’d noticed. Swimming as if he were drunk, Charles lurches back and away from Erik in slow motion. Erik jumps, too, spooked by Charles’ whole-body jerk.

“Oh, h-hello, Erik.” His voice does  **not** break between the ls of ‘hello.’ “I didn’t see you, either. Haven’t been long, haven’t-haven’t been here very long.”

Erik lifts an eyebrow at him. “Are you all right? You seem a bit…”

Charles waves a hand at Erik. “No. no. Don’t mind me. I’m just a bit tongue-tied and--” That thought slams into a brick wall so fast he almost chokes on the next word. Tied up. Like he’d written. Some well-hung, bulking brute of a man of a man trussing him up. Charles sputters and tactful adds, “Tired, incredibly tired these past few days. But definitely all right.”

Nodding, Erik’s mouth opens to say something, but he snaps it shut at the last second. He stares Charles in the face, sometimes in the blush creeping back from his neck, sometimes in his horribly bitten lips. But he does in fact stare at Charles. Long enough for Charles to break out in a nervous sweat and squirm in his chair for a new, difference reason. Erik nods at last, though, and bids him farewell. His smirk doesn’t spring up until he’s walked a bit away and turns to wink at Charles over his shoulder.

_ To be fair, I did warn you. I hope you get to see the next piece I write, _ whispers into his head along with that wink.  

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna make it official? [Follow this](http://missgillette.tumblr.com)


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